


our hearts somehow knew

by happinesssdeceit (crescenttwins)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-05 16:45:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15867663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescenttwins/pseuds/happinesssdeceit
Summary: Winry’s mind loves Paninya as much as her heart does.





	our hearts somehow knew

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keircatenation](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keircatenation/gifts).



> For keircatenation. Thank you for such a fun prompt, and I hope you like this!

It starts because Winry hasn’t slept in thirty-three hours, a rush job for military that Garfiel couriered to her shop with an apology and a horrible, wracking cough. She’s finished the request for new automail prototypes: ultra-light aluminum arms and the sturdier steel legs; the half-and-half alloys the government provided until she realized that the base material was inconsistent and the melting point was a headache at best. 

Winry’s done with it, and by all accounts she should be ready to drop.

But between the clock blinking 07:00 and the caffeine she’s been streamlining, Winry’s fingers are itching to work on something--  _ anything-- _ for fun. Paninya’s going to wake up soon, she justifies, and when the other woman comes by they can have breakfast. It wouldn’t make sense for Winry to go all the way home when Paninya will be here soon.

So instead she lets herself imagine the other woman’s long legs, the curve where her skin meets sturdy metal, and lets her pencil fly across the page. Paninya’s limb has been getting irritated with her old socket, maybe because it’s been worn out, or  _ maybe _ because the new leg is heavier and she’s been building up more thigh muscle. She’s due for a readjustment soon, anyway, so they can fix the socket, but if it’s a problem with the automail then Winry will have to look into alternate designs. She could probably cut out 5% of the metal with a different calf design.

At some point, Winry moves onto rapid transitions of weight for dual leg automail users, the need to support the additional mass of an automail leg. She wonders, absently, if Paninya will be willing to test them out-- first prototypes are never fully functional, and it’s a lot to ask someone to temporarily surrender their custom pieces to try out something that may crumple under them.

When a throat clears from the door, Winry is bent over her desk, papers filled with calculations of structural loading and weight bearing during Paninya’s leaps off of rooftops, diagrams of how neural connections can be re-wired for a fundamentally different style of leg. 

She looks up sheepishly at Paninya, accepts a kiss and a slice of pie. 

“Our bed was cold last night,” Paninya teases, hand stroking the top of Winry’s head. “I hope whatever automail breakthroughs you made were worth it.” She peers at the sheets on Winry’s desk for a moment before shaking her head. “I didn’t think the military contract was this complicated?”

“Oh, this is something else,” Winry says around a forkful of pie. “Military work’s done and ready for packaging.” 

“Gonna revolutionize the world, hm?” Paninya smiles wryly. “Sometimes I wish I met you first, y’know. Ed’s spoiled when all your prototypes are designed to be shorty-sized.”

Winry opens her mouth to defend Ed, if only because she can hear the echoes of him ranting in her mind, and then realizes what Paninya said. She rewinds, stares at the pages strewn across her desk.

“I understand it,” Paninya promises, “it’s his benefit of being the first person you ever made automail for. Childhood friends trump all. I get it-- oh, well, I don’t  _ really _ get it, but y’know. I sort of get it, when I see you three together.” 

Winry looks at a sketch of automail legs that will fit neatly under sleeping pants, and drops her fork.

Paninya swipes it out of the air, and grins. There’s a twist at the corner of her lips that makes something in Winry’s chest thump painfully. 

“Looks like someone needs a nap,” Paninya says, steps around the desk to finally slide an arm around her. “The only big thing today is the pick up for the military project, right? I can handle the packaging and hand off.”

Winry stares at her, head spinning. She mutters a curse, drags a hand behind Paninya’s neck to kiss her to make the pain in her heart stop. It tastes like mint and sugar, warm and sweet, and Winry can feel her ears burning. Catching the hem of Paninya’s shirt, she tugs her closer until they break apart, breath mingling in the scant space between them.

Paninya hums, and pulls away gently. “I’ll take care of the shop today. You should go rest.”

“I love you,” Winry says, and she means it.

Laughter brushes against her cheek. “Go rest, Winry.”

It’s tempting to take the out, to pretend that she saw nothing in Paninya’s face and there’s nothing left unsaid between them. But Winry grew up with Ed and Al, the densest boys in the world who would tear out their own hearts before admitting they were hurting, and she has no tolerance for willful ignorance.

“If you could double check my numbers while I nap at home,” Winry says, reaching out to order the pages into something logical, “I’d appreciate it.”

Paninya accepts the stack of paper hesitantly, brushes their fingers together at the handoff. “Of course,” she agrees.

Winry washes her face in the bathroom, grabs her purse and wrench and starts the walk home. From there, it’s easy for her to collapse into their couch-- soft but ridiculously supportive. It smells a bit like Paninya-- metal and oil, the muskiness of her skin and light scent of her favorite shampoo. If Winry lets her eyes drift shut, the smell envelops her, and she barely registers the clicking of the clock before slipping into rest.

 

 

 

Winry awakens to the sound of the front door slamming in its frame and a dark sky, and then Paninya is beside her on the couch, drawing her up into a furious kiss.

Any sound of confusion Winry makes is swallowed in the kiss, and she rubs her hand against Paninya’s back until the kiss gentles and breaks.

“ _ You _ ,” Paninya accuses, and Winry’s half-asleep mind is lagging on the wet shine to the other woman’s lips, “are a  _ terrible  _ person sometimes. How could you not warn me?”

Winry frowns, brain reeling back to today’s appointment booklet. There shouldn’t have been anything that Paninya couldn’t handle-- a few easy builds for fittings later in the week, some deliveries. “The shop--”

“The shop is  _ fine _ ,” Paninya declares, “I made sure we were done for the day despite you dropping  _ those papers  _ on me.”

Papers? Winry blinks, and then sits up straighter. “You looked at them? What did you think?”

“You,” Paninya says, fond and exasperated, “are a  _ ridiculously _ intelligent woman. How do you think I felt about your love letter?”

Winry flushes, “It wasn’t a--”

“On the third page, you break off in calculations to wonder what type of  _ screwhead _ I would like. You start designing a screw that might be more tolerant of shear forces.” Paninya exhales, eyes shutting, “Winry, I haven’t broken a screw in  _ months _ .”

“It could happen,” Winry says, and there’s a prickle of embarrassment at the back of her throat. Those screws could be useful, even if Paninya wasn’t interested--

Paninya pushes her onto the couch, chases her with her mouth, licks against her lips. Winry makes a garbled sound of surprise.

“I love you,” Paninya says, and Winry’s head is spinning from the whiplash. “Winry, Winry, I love you so much-- I love your  _ brain _ so much.”

Winry blinks at her. “That’s the first time I’ve heard that.”

“Your brain clearly loves me back,” Paninya continues, “it wrote me a whole fifteen pages telling me so.”

Winry groans, mortified, and then asks, hesitantly, “You liked it, then?”

“Winry,” Paninya scolds gently, “if those pages weren’t extremely valuable intellectual property-- especially with the snakes around here that are always trying to get a look at your work-- I’d show ‘em off, show people that you’re a gorgeous genius automail mechanic, but you’re also  _ my _ gorgeous genius automail mechanic.”

“Oh,” Winry says, and laughs.

“Why are you laughing,” Paninya whines.

“I’m glad you liked it,” Winry moves forward to straddle Paninya’s legs. “To be honest, I was a little worried that you would hit the math and stop reading.”

“I skimmed the math,” Paninya admits easily, shifting to accommodate Winry’s weight. 

Paninya grins up at her when she laughs, and Winry kisses the corner of her smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate and am motivated by comments if you would like to leave one. At the same time, replying gives me a lot of stress-- so if you don't receive a reply, please know that I treasure your words very much. <3


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